Apparitions and Ailments
by IMTheresa
Summary: Is Sam's loss of consciousness caused by an illness or is it the yellow eyed demon? And what happens when the brothers find out for sure?
1. Chapter 1

**Apparitions and Ailments**

Chapter 1

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Disclaimer: If I owned them, my name would be Eric Kripke.

A/N: Thanks to Kelli for her usual beta reading. I couldn't do it without my best cheerleader.

oooOOOooo

Not only is the universe stranger than we imagine, it is stranger than we can imagine - Arthur Eddington

oooOOOooo

Dean Winchester hated hospitals. They were too clean, too bright, and people only went there when they were sick or hurt – or waiting for someone who was sick or hurt. There was no entertainment in the waiting rooms. The televisions always seemed to be tuned to a news channel, the vending machines sold bad coffee and there were no dart boards or pool tables. There was nothing to do but pace or stare out of the windows. Dean had been pacing for the last twenty minutes.

He and his brother were only passing through town on their way to a job in the next state. They'd enjoyed a few days of downtime after getting rid of a small band of vampires preying on a camp full of teenagers. It was the plot of a bad horror movie, and that didn't escape the Winchester sense of humor.

They checked into the nondescript motel just after twilight on a summer night. After driving all day, Dean was ready for a few hours of fun at a bar. As usual, Sam was ready to leave after a couple of beers. He asked Dean for the car keys, offering to pick him up later, but the bar was less than a mile away from the motel and Dean said he would walk.

After getting his fill of beer and tequila shots, collecting phone numbers he would never call and winning a few hundred dollars playing pool, Dean headed back to the motel. He expected to find Sam asleep, or maybe lost in a book, but collapsed on the bathroom floor never occurred to him.

Dean had walked into the room, feeling good, and noticed Sam's bed was empty. He called his brother's name, but got no response. He saw the bathroom door was closed and knocked on it once before flopping onto his bed. It was a few minutes before he started to become concerned.

"Sam?" Dean called, not moving from the bed. When there was still no response, Dean sat up and called his brother's name again.

A moment later, Dean was at the bathroom door. "Sam? Come on, man," he knocked on the door and waited. "Okay, I'm coming in."

Dean hesitantly reached out for the doorknob; the lock wasn't engaged so he turned the knob and gently pushed open the door. "Sam?"

He saw his brother lying on the floor, fully clothed, and rushed to his side. Dean examined him briefly, then turned him onto his back. Sam was breathing and there were no apparent injuries, but he was completely non-responsive. Dean quickly took in the room; it looked like Sam had been getting ready to take a shower.

Dean looked for obvious injuries, but found nothing. A moment later, Sam's eyes fluttered open and he looked at his brother, confused. "What happened?"

"You tell me. I just got here and found you unconscious. Did you have a vision?"

Sam shook his head slowly. "I don't think so."

"Do you feel okay?" Dean asked as he helped Sam sit up.

Sam rubbed his forehead. "Yeah."

"Maybe you just need some sleep." Dean suggested, not at all confident.

Dean didn't get much sleep that night due to worry. The next morning Sam was suffering no ill effects, but the same thing happened four more times over the next month. Despite Dean's insistence and Sam's own growing nervousness, he refused to see a doctor. It wasn't until earlier in the evening that he lost his choice.

Dean left their motel room to get something out of the Impala's trunk and when he got back to the room, Sam was unconscious on the floor next to his bed. Dean tried everything he knew to revive his brother, but nothing worked, so now he was pacing in a hospital waiting room. It was a fairly small, county facility and not equipped for major emergencies. It was really little more than a clinic, but Dean hoped the doctor could diagnose his brother's condition without moving him to a larger place.

He looked at his cell phone to check the time, even though there was a clock on the wall across the room. Instead of putting the phone away when he saw the phone agreed with the clock, he absently scrolled through the list of contacts programmed into the phone. Dean had a lot of numbers, but no one he wanted to call. Their father was dead, apparently in some exchange for Dean's own life. Caleb and Pastor Jim, people he and Sam had grown up trusting, were also dead. He could call Ellen Harvelle, an old friend of their father's and someone who was becoming more a part of their lives, but Dean wasn't sure she was entirely on their side and didn't really feel a connection to her. Bobby. Dean almost pressed the button that would connect him with their friend, but there was nothing to tell him yet.

Bobby Singer was an old friend of their father's, but, like with most of his old friends, there had been a falling out. That didn't stop Bobby from coming to their aid several times in the last year since they reconnected. He told them about the Devil's Trap they ended up using to ensnare the possessed Meg. He also helped after the car accident that nearly took all of their lives and the brothers stayed with him after being released from the hospital. Bobby was an expert on demon possession and cared about the boys almost as much as their own father had. Bobby was part of the family.

Dean was in a corner of the waiting room, cell phone in his hands, and his finger ready to push the button that would dial Bobby's number. It was comforting to know there was someone he could call. Since his father's death, Dean had felt very much alone. He had the burden of protecting his brother from something he didn't fully understand and knew if he failed, it would be his responsibility to kill Sam.

He shook his head as the thought came to him. He promised his father, he promised Sam, but Dean didn't really think he could kill his brother. How could he when he'd spent almost his entire life taking care of and protecting him?

Dean looked up when he saw a woman in a lab coat coming toward him. She was probably in her late fifties and looked like someone's grandmother.

"Mr. Kilmister? I'm Dr. Sharp."

Dean generally used aliases related to classic rock bands and Lemmy Kilmister was the lead vocalist for one of his favorites, Motorhead.

He stood up. "How's my brother?"

The doctor paused, apparently gathering her thoughts. "He's still unconscious, but his heart rate is good and he's breathing on his own. There's no obvious head injury and I've ordered some blood tests, but I suspect we'll end up having to transfer him to Hobart."

"Hobart?"

"It's a much larger hospital about fifty miles away. They have much more extensive diagnostic tools than we have here." her voice was soothing. "I've read the medical history you provided us with when you filled out the admittance paperwork. Your brother has passed out this way before?"

Dean nodded. "It's happened three or four times in the last month, but he came to pretty fast."

"No history of migraines, epilepsy –"

"No, nothing. Sam is healthy."

"He hasn't had anything unusual to eat or drink; no food allergies?"

"No."

Dean watched as the doctor made a few notes in Sam's chart. She asked a few more questions before putting her pen down.

"Do you have any idea what it might be?" Dean asked fearfully.

"It's too early to say; at this point it could be almost anything."

"When can I see him?"

"It's well past visiting hours, but once we've got him settled in a room, a nurse will come for you."

Dean nodded.

oooOOOooo

It was almost an hour before Dean was taken to his brother's room. He stood just inside the door, staring at the still form in the bed. Sam was covered only by a sheet and connected to a monitor and IV.

"What's going on with you, Sammy?" Dean whispered as he stood next to the bed. "You can't do this to me, man. You can't be sick, okay? Not on top of everything else."

Dean moved a chair closer to the bed and settled in for a long wait. He had no intention of leaving his brother's side.

Sam opened his eyes and tried to figure out where he was. The last thing he remembered was being in a motel room with Dean; they had been watching an old black and white horror movie and sharing a bag of M&Ms. At first he thought he was having a vision, but this felt too real.

He could feel the dampness of the room around him and he shivered from the cold. It was dark, enough light had started coming from somewhere that he could tell he was in a small room. The walls appeared to be made of stone, like in a medieval castle, and the floor where he sat was dirt. He couldn't tell where the light was coming from, but there was no furniture in the room.

_Sam_.

He looked around for the source of the sound, but he was alone in the stone room.

_Sam, you have to go back._

He recognized the voice, but couldn't see anything other than the walls around him.

_Listen to me. You have to go back to your brother._

Dean jerked awake when he heard his brother cry out. Sam was struggling with the wires and tubes attached to him, but Dean grabbed his hands and held him down.

"Calm down, Sam. You're okay."

Sam continued to struggle. "Sammy, it's me. Can you hear me?"

He suddenly relaxed and lay back, searching his brother's face. "Dean? Where are we?"

"The hospital."

"What?" Sam looked around the room frantically. "No –"

Dean loosened his grip on Sam's hands, but maintained physical contact as he sat on the edge of the bed. He glanced toward the door when a nurse walked in.

"It's nice to see you awake." the young redhead smiled.

She glanced at the monitors and made notes in Sam's chart before asking him a few questions. A moment later she put the chart in the holder on the foot of his bed. "The doctor will be in to see you soon."

Sam looked to his brother. "Dean…"

"It's okay, Sammy."

"No, you don't understand. I wasn't in the hospital a second ago – I was in a stone room. It was cold, the walls were wet –"

"Sam, you've been here for hours."

"No! At first I couldn't see anything, but then the room got lighter and –"

"And what, Sammy?" Dean asked gently.

Sam looked at his brother with tears in his eyes. "Dad was there. He told me to come back."

"That had to be a dream."

"It didn't feel like a dream," Sam said, sounding very tired.

Dean patted his shoulder as Dr. Sharp walked into the room. After a moment of pleasantries, she asked Dean to wait outside. He didn't want to leave his brother alone and, judging by the look in Sam's eyes, he didn't want Dean to go. But Dean smiled encouragingly and patted Sam's shoulder again as he stood up.

"I'll be right outside," he promised.

oooOOOooo

Dean paced in the hallway. It was nearly seven in the morning and he knew the nurses' shift change would be happening soon. There would be a lot of activity and Dean fully expected not to be allowed back into Sam's room until visiting hours started.

He thought about what Sam said; that he'd been in a room with their father. Dean knew that nothing was impossible, but that had to have been a dream. Their father was dead and even if Sam's unconsciousness wasn't caused by something physical, he wouldn't have been in the same place as their father. _Would he?_

Dean leaned against the wall and rubbed his face. He suddenly felt very tired.

"Mr. Kilmister?"

Dean looked at the doctor as she came out of Sam's room.

"Your brother is a little disoriented, but that's not unusual. He also seems a little agitated, but again, not unusual, considering he woke up in a hospital. He's asking for you, but I'd like you to give us a little while to run some more tests – besides, you look like you could use some coffee and breakfast. Why don't you come back in a couple hours?"

"What kind of tests?"

"A CAT scan, MRI, some more blood work. I want to rule out any of the obvious causes for his losing consciousness."

"How long do you think he'll have to stay here?"

"Assuming nothing shows up on the tests, I can't see why he should have to stay more than a day. But since this has happened before, I would strongly recommend your brother see a specialist, perhaps a neurologist, to get to the root of the problem."

Dean only nodded.

Dr. Sharp smiled encouragingly at him. "Get some food and some rest. Your brother will be back in his room in a couple of hours."

"Can I at least tell him I'm leaving?"

Dean thought he saw something pass over the doctor's face, but her smile remained. "Of course. But please stay for just a moment."

"Dean," Sam began when he saw his brother come through the door. "You have to get me out of here."

Dean didn't like the frantic tone to Sam's voice.

"The doctor wants to run some more tests –"

"No! I don't want to have any tests!" Sam started to pull the IV tube out of his arm, but Dean got to him before he could.

"Sam, don't. Just go through the tests –"

"I'm fine!"

Dean sighed. "You're not fine. You've passed out more than once in the last few weeks and I couldn't revive you this time. I want to see if the doctor can find out why –"

"Dad's been calling me; that's why."

"What?"

"I told you I was with Dad –"

"Sam –"

"Listen to me!" Sam grabbed Dean's shirt. "Please!"

Dean held his brother's wrist. "Sam, I _am_ listening to you. We need to find out if there's a physical cause to this –"

"Dean." Sam's insistent voice and his wide, pleading eyes tore at Dean's heart. If he could have, he would have taken Sam from the hospital in that moment and gone where ever he wanted to go. But Sam was hooked up to machines, Dean didn't know where his clothes were, and a nurse walked in to prep him for the tests.

"Please." Sam whispered.

Dean gave the nurse a look and leaned closer to Sam. "Let them do the tests. I'll be back in a couple of hours – chances are you'll be out of here tomorrow."

Sam looked at him, pleadingly, for another moment and then nodded.

_TBC_


	2. Chapter 2

**Apparitions and Ailments**

Chapter 2

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Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

A/N: Wow, I'm overwhelmed by the response so far. I hope I live up to your expectations! Let me know.

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You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do - Eleanor Roosevelt

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Dean went back to their motel room to take a shower and change clothes. He knew he would get no more sleep and, besides, he didn't want to be gone from Sam that long. Neither of them was particularly fond of hospitals, but Sam's reaction seemed extreme. Before leaving the motel, Dean packed a few things for Sam and went to the diner next door for coffee and breakfast. He wasn't very hungry, but knew he needed to eat. He also needed to do something to keep from rushing back to the hospital.

As he contemplated the pancakes he ordered, but didn't want, Dean wondered about what Sam told him. Had he somehow been with their father or was there a physical cause for him passing out that the doctor only needed time to find? But, if John was in contact, why did he send Sam back? If the tests today showed nothing and Sam was released, what should Dean do? Humor him or try to convince him he'd only been dreaming? Could he find some way to find out the truth? And if Sam continued to pass out; should Dean try to convince him to see a specialist?

Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, Dean took his cell phone from a pocket and put it on the table next to his plate. He wanted to call Bobby, but something stopped him. He still didn't really have anything to share with the older hunter because there were nothing but questions about Sam's condition and what might be causing it. On the other hand, maybe Bobby would be able to shed some light on what could be happening. Maybe he knew of a way John could be in contact with Sam.

Dean ate a few bites of the food, got a large coffee to go, and headed to the Impala. Sitting behind the wheel, he finally dialed Bobby's number.

"Hello?" he heard the familiar voice and was suddenly more at ease.

"Bobby, it's Dean."

"Dean! How are you?" came the warm greeting from the other end.

"To be honest with you, I'm not sure."

"What's going on?"

Dean spent the next few minutes telling him what had been happening with Sam. He finished with, "Do you think Sam could really be in contact with Dad?"

Bobby was quiet for so long that Dean thought the call had been lost. "Bobby?"

"Sorry, I was just thinking," the older man said. "I've never heard of anything like what you've described happening, but that doesn't mean it isn't possible. I can poke around if you want; see what I can come up with."

"Thanks, Bobby," Dean said and sipped at the coffee.

"So if Sam is released tomorrow, where do you think you'll go?"

"I hadn't thought that far ahead."

"Why don't you come here?"

Dean realized that's what he had been hoping Bobby would say. Being with him felt almost like being with his father and that was something Dean sorely missed.

"Thanks for the offer. I'll let you know."

They spoke for a few more minutes and then Dean headed back to the hospital. He got to Sam's room a full five minutes after visiting hours started, but was disappointed not to find his brother there. He dropped the small bag he packed on the floor next to the bed before going to the nurses' station.

"Hello, Mr. Kilmister." the nurse behind the desk smiled at him. "Your brother should be back in his room any minute now."

Dean nodded. "Thanks."

He went back to the room, feeling a little uncomfortable. It was a small facility and Dean supposed it was a good thing that the staff was so attentive, but at the same time it made him feel exposed. Dean was standing at the window, his back to the room, when Sam was brought in a few minutes later. He turned to see that his brother looked tired and pale. Dean watched as Sam waved off the assistance of the orderly who had been pushing the wheelchair, but the effort of climbing into bed seemed to exhaust him. After making sure everything was back in place, the orderly left the brothers alone.

"You okay?" Dean asked, moving closer to the bed.

"Yeah, fine."

Dean heard the agitation in his voice and sat on the edge of the bed. "The tests go all right?"

The younger man only nodded.

"Sam –"

"You don't believe me, do you?"

Dean was taken aback by the abruptness of the question. He stared at Sam for a moment.

"I never said that."

"_Do_ you believe me?"

Dean was too tired and worried for this conversation. He pinched the bridge of his nose and then looked at his brother. "I don't know what to believe, Sam. All I know for sure is that you've been passing out. Maybe you are in contact with Dad, I don't know. And right now, I don't know how to find out."

"You could just trust me," Sam said quietly, not looking at his brother.

"Sam."

"Dean, please. Get me out of here and trust me."

"I do trust you, but I'm not going to let you leave yet." Sam was about to protest, but Dean continued quickly. "I want to get the test results just to make sure you're okay."

"I am okay, Dean, I promise." Sam looked at him, wide-eyed. "I promise."

"Humor me, okay?"

Sam looked into his brother's eyes; he saw concern and pleading.

"Sam, please?" Dean said earnestly. "If the tests come back normal, I'll take you out of here so fast it will make your head spin. But if there's anything, even the smallest indication that there's something wrong –"

"There won't be."

Dean nodded. "But if there is, you have to promise me that you'll take it seriously and do what the doctor tells you."

Sam nodded.

oooOOOooo

As the day wore on, Dean became increasingly concerned about his brother. He stayed pale, fell asleep easily but didn't sleep long, and he refused to eat the lunch that was brought to him.

"You should eat something, Sam." Dean said. He was sitting in the chair he'd moved close to the bed and his feet rested on the bottom rung of the railing. Except for a brief excursion to the bathroom down the hall earlier when Sam was asleep, he'd been with his brother since the morning.

"I'm not hungry."

Dean watched him closely. "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, just not hungry."

"You haven't eaten in quite a while; since last night."

"I don't know what to tell you, man." Sam sounded irritated. He glanced at his brother, then looked away.

"I packed a deck of cards in the duffle. Want to play?"

Sam shrugged. "I just want to get out of here. I'm going stir-crazy."

Dean reached for the bag and pulled out the cards. "This will keep your mind off of it for a little while."

He saw Sam roll his eyes and grinned at him. Dean shuffled and dealt the cards, but stopped short as he put the rest of the deck on the bed. Sam reached for his cards, but suddenly his hand went limp.

"Sam?"

The younger man turned toward him, but there didn't appear to be any recognition in his eyes.

"Hey –" Dean began.

Sam moaned and his head fell back onto the pillow before listing to the side.

"Sam?" Dean stood up and touched his brother's shoulder lightly. Still getting no response, Dean shook him. "Sammy!?"

Before panic set in, Dean pressed the nurse call button while trying to revive his brother. "Sammy, come on, man."

A nurse came in a moment later and after a quick examination, pressed the button again. It didn't take long for the room to fill with people, including a doctor Dean didn't recognize. He was escorted from the room, but didn't stray far from the doorway.

oooOOOooo

_You shouldn't be here._

"What's going on? Where are we?"

_You need to go back. It's not safe for you here._

Sam glanced around the dim room; it was the same place he'd been earlier.

"I can't see you; where are you?"

_Sam, go back to your brother. It's not safe for you here and I can't protect you._

"I can handle myself, Dad." Sam tried to stand, but found he couldn't. He also realized he couldn't see his own body. "Dad?"

_Listen to me._ John's voice sounded stronger. _I'm not the one bringing you here. You have to fight it, Sam. You can't be here. _

"Who is it then? And if I can get here, can't I get you out?" Sam asked, looking around frantically.

_I can't leave now._

Sam felt like he was being blown backward by a strong wind heard a loud howl. He wasn't sure if it was an animal or something else.

"Dad!" he yelled, trying to be heard about the noise.

_Get out of here, Sammy! Go now!_

Sam's eyes opened; he could voices, but couldn't see any faces yet.

"Dean?" his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Sam, my name is Dr. Caulfield. Do you remember where you are?"

Sam turned his head toward the direction of the voice and the doctor moved closer to the bed and into his field of vision.

"Where's Dean?"

"Your brother is right outside. You're in a hospital; do you remember?"

Sam tried to sit up, but couldn't make his body obey him. "I need to talk to my brother."

The doctor nodded to a nurse on the other side of the bed, though Sam didn't see that. All he knew was, a moment later, his brother was standing next to him.

"Dean –" Sam reached out for him.

Dean put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm here."

"I have to talk to you." his voice was still low, but he sounded frantic.

"Sam, let the doctor do his job first. I'm not going anywhere."

"But –"

"Please, Sam. Let the doctor do his job."

Sam looked at his brother; there was fear in his eyes. He felt Dean's hand on his shoulder and nodded briefly.

"I was on my way to see you about your test results when the trouble started earlier." the doctor began. "Neither the CAT scan nor the MRI are showing a reason that you're losing consciousness. Considering what happened a few minutes ago, I'd like to transfer you to Hobart."

"I don't want to go to another hospital." Sam felt Dean squeeze his shoulder.

"We don't have the tools to diagnose your condition here," the doctor began. "I want to refer you to a neurologist."

"So release me and give me a referral. I'll go to a neurologist."

"Sam –" Dean began quietly.

"I don't want to be transferred to another hospital."

"After what just happened, I can't, in good conscious, release you."

"I'll sign whatever you want –"

"Sam, let's think about this," Dean said.

"I've already made up my mind."

"Sam, I don't think you understand the implications of your decision," Dr. Caulfield glanced at Dean, then turned his full attention back to Sam. "Losing consciousness is very serious –"

"I understand that, but my brother and I are on a road trip. I'd prefer to see a doctor at home." Sam heard his brother sigh.

Dr. Caulfield tried several other approaches, but in the end, he had no choice but to grant his patient's wish. He left to start the release paperwork and after the door closed behind him, Dean glared at Sam.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm not sick," Sam said confidently. "I was with Dad again."

"Sam –" Dean turned away from him. "You passed out and you can barely move now, but you've bullied the doctor into releasing you! For what? To see a doctor _at home_? What do you want me to do here, Sam?"

"Believe me."

Dean turned to look at him. Sam saw the emotions pass over his face as he struggled with his thoughts. He knew this had to be hard for his brother; it had always been Dean's job to take care of him and the responsibility he felt must be overwhelming right now. But Sam was confident he'd been with his father and he was convinced there was nothing a doctor could do for him.

"We're going to Bobby's." Dean said. "I called him earlier and told him what was going on. He said we were welcome there."

Sam nodded, relief flooding over him.

"But I swear, Sam, if you pass out like that on the way, I'm going to leave your limp ass on the side of the road."

Sam couldn't help but smile.

_TBC_


	3. Chapter 3

**Apparitions and Ailments**

Chapter 3

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Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

A/N: I've been remiss in responding to all the fabulous feedback, but I promise I will. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.

oooOOOooo

_So much of what is best in us is bound up in our love of family, that it remains the measure of our stability because it measures our sense of loyalty. All other pacts of love or fear derive from it and are modeled upon it - Haniel Long_

oooOOOooo

Later, the doctor came back to the room with the release paperwork, hoping to change Sam's mind before signing the release paperwork, but he was not successful. Dean leaned on the wall across the room as his brother signed the documents that acknowledged he was leaving without the doctor's agreement. Dean didn't like it, but Sam was adamant.

Dean knew he probably could have gotten Sam to stay if he'd really tried, but he didn't want the resulting umbrage between them. If Sam was right, and instead of being sick he'd somehow been with their father, the doctors' actions would do no good and might even cause problems. If Sam had contact with their father, there was a reason for it, and maybe the reason was that their father needed help.

While Sam was cleaning up and changing into clean clothes from the duffle, Dean called Bobby. During their conversation, Bobby made it no secret that he wasn't any happier about Sam checking himself out of the hospital than Dean was, but he knew once a Winchester made up his mind, there was little chance of changing it. He encouraged Dean to take it easy on the drive and they ended the call after Bobby elicited a promise to call him at least once a day.

Slipping the phone back into his pocket, Dean glanced around the room. He hadn't let himself think about it until now, but everything in it reminded him of when he'd lost his father. He felt a lump in his throat and a sick feeling in his stomach; he hated being here and a part of him wanted to take Sam and run. He smirked to himself realizing that's exactly what he'd been wanting to do for a long time. He just wanted a little while to regroup and figure out what their next move should be, but Sam wanted to meet his fate head on. Dean would have been on board with that if they'd had any clue what that fate might be.

Dean stood up and paced for a moment. He didn't want to think about the possibility of his brother turning evil; it seemed so ridiculous. Dean knew Sam didn't have an evil bone in his body so what could possibly happen to change that? And would he have to find a way to kill his brother, the only family he had left? The person he swore to protect no matter what? How the hell was he supposed to do that?

Running a hand over his face, Dean realized he could hear Dr. Caulfield's voice in the hallway.

"Hey, Sammy," he called, rapping on the bathroom door. "I'll be right back."

The doctor saw him come from Sam's room and excused himself from the conversation he was having.

"Mr. Killmister; about your brother –"

Dean looked at him unhappily. "I can't stop him from doing what he wants. But, well, I guess I just need to know what I should be on the look out for."

"I wish I could tell you, but I don't know what's wrong with your brother. We've ruled out all of the obvious things; everything we could test for here. I really wish you'd try to convince him to see a doctor over at Hobart."

Dean said nothing and the doctor sighed. "All right. You've seen what happens when he passes out; you've seen that there isn't any real warning. All I can tell you is you should make sure he eats healthy, gets plenty of sleep, and I would have him avoid alcohol. I'm sorry, but other than that, I have no advice. Except, of course, to get home and take him to a specialist as soon as possible."

The doctor wished him luck before heading off to see another patient. Dean looked back toward Sam's room, desperately hoping his brother wasn't sick and that Bobby would be able to help them. When he went back into the room, Sam was dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed. Dean knew his brother's every expression and now Sam looked at him with a mixture of gratitude and confidence in his eyes.

"Here's the deal," Dean said as they got into the car a few minutes later. "You tell me the second, I mean the _second_ that you don't feel right, if that happens."

Sam nodded at him. "I will."

"We eat regular meals and stop at a reasonable hour at night. It will probably take a couple of days to get to Bobby's and I don't want to take any chances." Dean turned the key in the ignition without waiting for an answer from his brother.

They headed back to the motel to get the rest of their things and Sam looked at his brother. "Dean?"

"Yeah?" he asked, briefly looking at Sam.

"Thanks."

He nodded, not at all sure he should have Sam's gratitude.

It was already late afternoon by time the brothers got on the road. After collecting their belongings from the motel, Dean insisted that Sam eat something. At the diner next door to the motel, Sam forced down half of a hamburger and a few French fries. It wasn't exactly healthy, but it was protein, and more than he'd eaten since the day before.

oooOOOooo

Sam knew that Dean was nervous about taking him from the hospital. He wasn't angry that his brother didn't completely believe him, but was grateful that Dean at least seemed to believe _in_ him. He did what he could to allay Dean's fear by not drifting off into his own world like he often did in the car; he kept the conversation going and did what he could to let Dean know he felt all right.

They stopped for the night much earlier than usual. Sam didn't mind; he was tired and wanted to stretch out. Normally he had no qualms about sleeping in the car and Dean never seemed to mind. Sam knew that he enjoyed driving and could spend many happy hours behind the wheel listening to classic rock music. Under the circumstances, though, Sam didn't think it would be fair to Dean if he tried to sleep. The last thing he wanted to do was add to his brother's worry.

"Are you hungry?" Dean asked as he dropped his duffle bag on the floor of the motel room.

"Honestly?" Sam sat on his bed. "No."

Dean looked at him and sat on his own bed.

"I feel fine, Dean. I promise," Sam said, as if reading his mind.

"Look, uh," Dean sounded nervous as he rubbed his palms on his pant legs. "I didn't ask, and you didn't say, but maybe you should tell me exactly what happened. With Dad, I mean."

Sam leaned forward with his hands clasped between his knees. He had known that Dean would eventually want the details of what Sam experienced, but he was glad it didn't happen right away. Sam had been thinking about it, but still wasn't sure what to tell him. He only remembered bits and pieces of it himself.

"I – I don't know for sure," Sam said as he looked at his brother, almost shyly. "It was like I woke up in a different place. I couldn't see much, but I know the walls were stone and the floor was dirt. I didn't see Dad, but I heard him."

"What did he say?" Dean asked in a whisper.

"He said that it wasn't safe there and I should come back. He said he didn't call me there."

"Who did?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't know."

Dean looked at Sam with a mixture of hope and fear on his face. Sam loved his father, but Dean had worshipped the man. Something fundamental changed in him, before they even burned the body, and Sam didn't think his brother would ever fully recover from the loss. In a way, he could understand that, but yet he had no way of really knowing what Dean was going through.

They had yet to put all the pieces together, but there were certain facts that could not be ignored. Dean miraculously recovered from fatal injuries, waking only a few minutes before their father died. And the Colt, the only weapon they knew of that could kill the yellow-eyed demon, was gone. Sam knew that Dean blamed himself for their father's death and guilt like that was something Sam understood all too well.

"Why do you think you went there?"

"I don't know," Sam said, almost apologetically.

"Do you think Dad is okay?"

Sam hated the despair in his brother's voice. He was used to Dean's confidence; his bravado. Sam knew that sometimes it was just an act, but it was still what he expected. It had always been Dean's job to take care of Sam and make things better for him. As much as Sam wanted to do that for Dean, he had no experience and was taken aback by Dean's willingness to let him see his weakness.

Sam shook his head and looked at Dean sympathetically. "I don't know. I wasn't there long enough and I could barely hear him."

Dean cleared his throat and stood up suddenly. "So, uh, I'm gonna run out to the fast food place I saw when we got off the highway. I'll bring you back a salad or something small."

He was gone before Sam could even react.

Dean parked outside of the fast food restaurant and leaned his head back against the seat, his eyes closed. He almost lost it in front of Sam and he could never let happen. He had to be strong for his brother no matter what; it was his job to make sure Sam was okay and he couldn't do that if he wasn't in control of himself.

He reached for his phone when it started to ring, sure it would be Sam. When he looked at the caller ID display, though, he was surprised to see Bobby's name.

"Hey, Bobby."

"Dean. You okay?"

"Yeah. Shouldn't I be?"

"Is Sam with you?"

"No, he's at the motel. I'm out grabbing us something to eat. What's going on, Bobby?" he sat up straighter in the seat.

"I've been looking for information; anything like what Sam said was happening to him."

"And?" Dean asked, fearfully.

"I still haven't found anything specific, but the visions he has are a type of psychic ability and he more than likely has some kind of connection to the demon –"

"_The _demon?" Dean repeated. "The yellow-eyed demon? He told me that Dad said he wasn't the one who brought Sam to him. Do you think the demon did it?"

"Slow down, Dean. I don't know anything for sure yet." Bobby's voice was soothing, but Dean was still on edge. "The reason I called was just to warn you that the demon is probably involved. I'm sure you already considered that. Those charms I gave you, after Sam was possessed, are you wearing them?"

"Yes."

"Sam, too?" 

"I think he is."

"Make sure. If the demon is bringing Sam to his realm, for lack of a better word, the boy needs some protection. I'm looking for something more powerful now."

Dean sighed. "Thanks, Bobby."

"Is everything going all right so far? I was kind of expecting a progress report."

"I was about to call you. So far, so good. Hey, Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"If this is all being caused by the yellow-eyed demon, I think I'd rather Sam be sick."

"I know what you mean."

oooOOOooo

Dean hadn't been gone very long when Sam was tempted to call him. He had seen the look on his brother's face right before he bolted; Dean was afraid and still felt guilty that he was alive while their father was dead. Sam wished he knew what to say to him that would help. He didn't want any distance between them now; too much was going on and they needed each other too much.

He heard what sounded like a clap of thunder and went to the window to look outside. The parking lot was poorly lit and he could see stars overhead. He heard the noise again, but this time it sounded more like something crashing off in the distance. When he heard it a third time, he realized the same thing happened just before he lost consciousness in the hospital.

_Sam._

His eyes opened, but he still saw only darkness. He felt the dirt floor around him and knew he wasn't in the motel room any more. He thought he'd heard something, but now there was only silence.

_Sam, wake up, Son._

"Dad? I can't see anything," Sam said as he struggled to sit up.

_Sammy, you have to fight this. You can't be here; it's not safe._

"You said that before, Dad. Tell me what's going on. Are you all right?"

_Don't worry about me; I can take care of myself. _

"Dad – look, Dean and I – can we get you out of here?"

_This isn't the time to worry about that. You have to get back to your brother and stay with him. Don't come back here._

"Stop being so cryptic!" Sam exploded. "Dean told me your secret; that I might become evil. Is that what this is about? Has the yellow-eyed demon brought me here to turn me evil? And why didn't you ever tell me about that? Didn't you think I had the right to know what might happen to me? What if it happened when I was with Jessica? Or on the road with Dean? What if it happened before you told him about it and he was caught completely off guard?"

_I didn't know about it myself until –_

"Damnit, Dad –"

_As much as I always enjoyed our fights, Sam, this really isn't the time. You have to go back to Dean and you have to figure out a way not to come here anymore. Dean can protect you –_

"I don't think he can, Dad," Sam said sadly. He felt bad about picking the fight, but old habits were hard to break. "And he shouldn't have to. Do you have any idea how hard this is for him?"

_Of course I know! Don't you think I'd rather be there to take care of you myself? But I had a choice to make and I knew you'd be better off with your brother than with me. I chose to save his life so you would have someone you trust to help you._

Sam didn't know how to respond.

_You and I have been butting heads for almost as long as you've been able to talk. That doesn't mean I love you any less, but I knew you and I wouldn't be able to exist together. And Dean – your brother deserved to live, Sam. Not just to look after you, but because he ought to be able to see this fight through and find a life afterward._

"So you did make a deal with the yellow-eyed demon," Sam said.

_I did what I had to do to protect my boys._

Sam cleared his throat. "But, Dad, if the yellow-eyed demon is bringing me to you –"

_You aren't being brought to me, Sam. I can communicate with you, but we're not together._

"I don't understand."

_I'm not in the same place as you are. I'm not even sure how I know when you get here, but I do. Sam, the yellow-eyed demon is bringing you here, but I don't know why. Something you have to understand is that sometimes it does things just to distract you and your brother; keep you off base. I don't know its plan completely, but I refuse to believe that your fate is sealed. Now, please, go back._

Sam looked around frantically, hoping to see anything other than darkness. "Are you in pain? Some other demons have told us –"

_Sam –_

"Dad, please, I have to know. Dean has to know."

_Demons lie._

"I know, but –"

_We don't have time for this! You have to go back to your brother and I –_

"You what, Dad?" Sam was exasperated.

_It takes a lot of strength for me to communicate with you –_

"Dad, can you tell me – are you here forever?"

_I'm working on that._

Sam could almost hear his father's roguish smile.

"We miss you, Dad. And Dean – he's not okay. Maybe it's not fair of me to tell you that, but he's not okay. He blames himself that you're dead and he – he's tired. He's got so much on his shoulders –"

_I know, Sam. I've always put too much on him, and let him take on too much. I apologized to him for that right before I did it again. But I couldn't let the demon have you. It already took too much and it couldn't have you, too. If I'd let Dean die, you and I would have ended up at each other's throats and – it's better this way, Sam. Dean can handle it._

Sam wasn't so sure.

_Go back, Sam. Go back before it's too late. You can't help me now, but you can help your brother. And he can help you. The yellow-eyed demon wants you. He wants to make you, and all the children like you, into something in his own image. _

The voice was softer, like his father was moving away from him. Sam reached out even though he knew he wouldn't be able to touch him.

_Sam?_

"Yeah, Dad?" he responded sadly.

_Bobby can help._

Before Sam could say anything else, even to just let his father know they were in touch with Bobby often, he heard a roar and felt a hard wind rush over him. He wasn't sure, but he thought he heard his brother's voice.

oooOOOooo

Dean walked into the motel room carrying a bag from the fast food restaurant. After his conversation with Bobby, he didn't have much of an appetite left, but he couldn't make Sam eat if he wasn't willing to do the same himself.

Sam was on the edge of the bed, the television off and the room lit only by the light coming from the bathroom.

"Sam?"

"Hey."

Dean set the bag on the small table. "You okay?"

Sam didn't respond.

Dean felt his heart quicken. "Sam?"

"Dean?"

"What is it?"

"It happened again," Sam said unhappily.

Dean felt cold. "What?"

"I just woke up; I was on the floor."

"I haven't been gone that long."

Sam shrugged.

"Did you get hurt when you fell?"

"No," he whispered.

"Were you – were you with Dad?"

"Yeah," Sam said, still in a whisper.

Dean sat down next to him. "Tell me."

Sam took a long, shaky breath. "We had a fight."

Somehow, Dean wasn't surprised. His brother and father could never spend much time together without an argument erupting. "Is that all? Did he give you any information?"

"They yellow-eyed demon is bringing me there. He said that some of the things the yellow-eyed demon does is just to mess with us."

"That's just great. So you're being taken, but he doesn't know why?"

"He doesn't know for sure. He said my fate isn't sealed."

"Damn straight it isn't," Dean muttered. He looked at his brother. "What has you so freaked out?"

"Other than I had a conversation with my dead father?"

"Yeah, other than that." Dean pushed him gently.

A small smile played on Sam's face, but he didn't say anything.

"What, Sam?"

"We were right. He made a deal with the yellow-eyed demon. He wanted you and me together because he knew I'd need help not to give in to the demon. Dad figured he and I would be at each other's throats and he wanted me with someone I could trust. He thought I didn't trust him –"

"Sam –"

"But the main reason he did it was because he wanted you to live so you can see the fight through and make a life once this whole thing is over."

Dean cleared his throat. He glanced around the room. "I talked to Bobby. He wants us to wear those charms he gave us."

Sam pulled the charm from under his shirt to show his brother. "Dean –"

"I'm not going to talk about that, Sam. I'm not going to talk about what Dad said about why he did what he did. I'm not."

Sam didn't push him.

_TBC_


	4. Chapter 4

**Apparitions and Ailments**

Chapter 4

oooOOOooo

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

A/N: You guys are really overwhelming me. I'm thrilled you like this and I love the feedback. Thanks again to Kelli.

oooOOOooo

_The words that a father speaks to his children in the privacy of home are not heard by the world, but, as in whispering-galleries, they are clearly heard at the end and by posterity Jean Paul Richter_

oooOOOooo

The brothers were tense as the trip to Bobby's continued. Sam didn't pass out any more, but he was pale and tired. Dean didn't know why, exactly, he believed that Sam had been with their father, but something about what Sam told him rang true. He wasn't completely convinced that there weren't also physical causes for Sam's loss of consciousness and he still wanted Sam to see a specialist.

For two days, Dean didn't let Sam out of his sight. He barely slept at night for fear something would happen when he wasn't watching. He was tired, he was scared and he'd never been so happy to be anywhere as when he pulled into Bobby's salvage yard.

For his part, Sam allowed his brother's overprotection without comment. Normally not having even a moment to himself would grate on his nerves, but Sam understood Dean's reasons and didn't protest.

Hearing the low growl of the Impala engine, their friend met them on his front porch, a warm greeting for each of them. Sam loved being at Bobby's; he had more books than some libraries and he gave Sam free reign to them. He was an expert on demon possession and never hesitated to share his knowledge. He wasn't quite as gruff as John Winchester, but being with Bobby was a lot like being with his father – except for the fights.

"How are you feeling?" Bobby asked Sam as they settled in his living room. "You both look like shit, by the way."

The brothers glanced at each other, smiling lightly. That was something else they liked about Bobby; he didn't pull his punches.

"It's been a rough couple of days," Dean said.

"I'm sure it has been. So, Sam, you want to tell me exactly what's been going on?"

Sam sat back on the couch and cleared his throat. He glanced at his brother, then turned his attention back to Bobby. "Right before I pass out, I hear a loud noise. It's like a crash outside, but –"

"You didn't tell me that," Dean said quickly.

"I know; I'm sorry. I remembered it right before I passed out the last time."

"Is there anything else you haven't told me?"

"Dean –"

"Boys, let's concentrate here," Bobby interrupted.

Sam looked at him.

"A crash? That's the only warning that something is about to happen?"

"Yeah. The room goes dark around me and I wake up with Dad."

"You're _with _him? Physically?"

"No. I don't see him and he told me we're not in the same place. But I _hear_ him."

"Tell me what he's said to you."

Sam spent the next several minutes telling Bobby what he could remember of his conversations with his father.

"So your daddy thinks the yellow-eyed son of a bitch is behind this," Bobby said thoughtfully. "He's taking you – somewhere – John knows you're there, and he wants you to leave."

Sam nodded. "He said it's not safe."

"So the question is," Dean suggested, "why is the yellow-eyed demon taking him?"

"Just to mess with us?" Sam asked. "Dad said that would happen."

"The question isn't just why, but how do we stop it," Bobby said. "I'm tempted to agree with John about the reason, but I think the thing we need to focus on is how to keep it from happening."

"Any ideas?" Dean asked.

"Nope. Not a one."

Dean looked at him. "You're kidding."

Bobby shrugged.

oooOOOooo

Three days later they were no closer to any answers, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Bobby barely slept, spending hours researching and talking to his contacts. Sam was right with him as far as the research and even Dean, who preferred guns to books, did what he could. He also made sure Sam ate and went to bed, but he had no control over whether or not he actually slept.

Dean joined Bobby on the porch with a beer for both of them.

"Sam with the books?"

Dean nodded.

"You okay?"

Dean shook his head.

Bobby took a long swig of the beer. "He's been staying awake; not passing out."

"Nope. But if was really with Dad, and Dad is right that the demon is just messing with us, it's only a matter of time before something else happens."

Bobby watched his young friend.

"I can't do it."

"What?"

"I can't protect him. I can't save him."

Dean leaned against the porch railing, his arms stiff, staring at the salvage yard before him.

"The demon can take him whenever it wants to and there isn't a fucking thing I can do about it," Dean said as he threw the nearly full beer bottle toward a nearby tree. "It took my mother, my father and now it's going to take my brother. I can't fucking stop it!"

Bobby let him vent; he watched as the young man hit the porch railing repeatedly before lashing out at everything else that was nearby. Finally, Dean was spent. He slid to the ground, his knees up to his chest and one hand covering his face.

"You done?" Bobby asked quietly.

Dean looked at him, a single tear rolling down his cheek. Bobby handed him his own beer and sat down next to him.

"You _can_ stop it; we just have to figure out how. Why don't you go inside, get some sleep, and we'll start fresh in the morning?

Dean went to the bedroom he and Sam were sharing and found Sam was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor.

"Sam?"

"You okay, Dean?" he asked without looking up.

"Yeah. I thought I'd turn in early. What are you doing?"

"I heard you."

"Oh." Dean sat down on his own bed and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "I'm sorry."

"So, that promise you made –"

"Don't say it, Sam."

"If you can't save me –"

"Sammy –"

"I don't want to hurt anyone; especially you."

"You're not going to hurt me," Dean said softly. "You're not going to turn evil."

"You said it yourself, Dean. The demon can take me anytime it wants to –"

"That's not the same as turning evil."

Sam looked at him with tears in his eyes.

"I'll find a way, Sammy. I swear to you, I'll find a way."

oooOOOooo

When Dean woke up the next morning, Sam's bed was empty. He wasn't in the kitchen or with the books in the living room. Dean walked outside, but found only Bobby, who was working on a car.

"Have you seen Sam?"

"No. I figured he was still in bed."

Dean looked around. "The Impala is still here."

"Maybe he just took a walk to think."

"Maybe."

"You feelin' any better than you were last night?"

"Not a whole lot. Sam heard me."

"Oh."

"I'm gonna grab some coffee, then go look for him."

"You want some help?"

"Not yet, but thanks."

Two hours later, Sam was still missing. He wasn't answering his phone and between the two of them, Dean and Bobby searched the entire salvage yard. Back at the house, Dean was pacing in the kitchen.

"He wouldn't just take off and not answer his phone," Dean insisted. "Not again. And the last time it happened, he was possessed."

"If he's still wearing that charm, he ain't possessed."

Dean rubbed his face. "Damnit, Bobby, where is he? Where's my brother?"

_Why are you here again, Sammy? I thought you understood –_

"We've been with Bobby, but he hasn't found anything."

_He's getting sloppy, then. _

Sam was again surrounded in darkness. "Dad, about that fight we had –"

_Don't worry about that now, Sam. We fight. It's what we do._

"I don't want it to be what we do. I miss you, Dad."

_I miss you, too, Son. _

"Dean's scared. He doesn't think he's going to be able to save me –"

_He'll figure it out. And you're pretty resourceful, too._

"Why is the yellow-eyed demon doing this? Why is it brining me here?"

_I told you, Sammy, it's going to do whatever it can to keep you and Dean off balance._

"That's all this is?"

_Don't take that lightly, Sammy. It's testing you; like in Oregon._

"Oregon? You know about that?"

_Yeah. The demon staged that to see if you were immune or not._

"Was I supposed to be?" Sam asked, fearfully.

_I'm sorry; I don't know._

"Dad –"

_You have to go now, Sammy. _

"Dad, there's still so much about this I don't understand."

_I know and I'm sorry. All I can tell you for sure is that the yellow-eyed demon is behind this and I think it's a test or something it's doing to keep you off balance. You need to go and you have to make sure Bobby finds a way to keep this from happening again. Don't let it take you again, Sammy._

Sam's eyes opened, but he didn't know where he was. He sat up slowly and looked around. He wasn't in the salvage yard and nothing looked familiar. He checked his pockets and was surprised to find his wallet and his cell phone. Standing up, he opened the phone. There were ten missed calls and just as many voice mails; all from Dean. Without bothering to listen to them, he dialed his brother's number.

"Sam, where the hell are you?" Dean demanded when he answered the phone. "You've been gone for three hours!"

"I don't know. I –"

"Are you hurt?"

"I don't think so. Dean, I was with Dad again."

"Okay, look, I'm gonna put Bobby on the phone so you can describe to him where you are. Hopefully he'll recognize it and we'll come to get you."

There weren't a lot of landmarks, but Sam was able to tell Bobby enough about his surroundings for him to figure out where he was. Dean drove impatiently as Bobby gave him directions to the spot, about five miles away. When they found Sam, he was sitting on a large rock with one arm around his stomach.

"Sam!" Dean ran toward his brother after he parked the car. He fell to his knees in front of Sam. "You said you weren't hurt –"

"I'm not; I don't feel well."

"Come on, let's get you back to Bobby's." Dean helped him stand and led him to the car.

"Dean, Dad knew about Oregon."

"What? The demon virus?"

"He said it was a test to see if I was immune, but he doesn't know if the demon wanted me to be, or not. He also said this could be a test."

Dean opened the back door for Sam and helped him settle inside. The young man tried to stay awake, but fell asleep shortly after the car was moving. Dean glanced in the rearview mirror nervously as he drove back to the salvage yard.

"This has to stop, Bobby."

"I know."

"We have to find something to keep that demon bastard from taking him."

"I got an idea last night. I was going to talk to you about it when you woke up, but we were a little busy –"

"Let's get Sammy back and make sure he's okay; then you can tell us all about it."

oooOOOooo

"I don't want a tattoo."

Dean looked at his brother. "Do you want to keep taking trips on the demon express?"

Sam rolled his eyes. He woke up long enough to get into the house earlier, but slept for two hours and now, after a large mug of strong coffee, he was still a little spacey.

"I think I've been trying too hard," Bobby began, hoping to avert a brotherly argument. "I've been trying to find something specific to this situation and, frankly, I'm not sure this has ever happened before. I still want to find out where Sam is going, but in the meantime, we need to keep him from going there."

"With a tattoo?" Sam complained.

"Charms can get lost, " Bobby pointed out.

"I haven't lost the one you gave me –"

"As a tattoo, a symbol is potentially more powerful. I found something that should work; it's a symbol that dates back to the Viking era and it supposed to protect against evil forces."

"But a tattoo?"

"Chicks dig tattoos, man," Dean said.

Sam ignored his brother's playful grin.

Bobby glanced at one and then the other. "I think I'll leave you two to talk about this."

Once they were alone in the kitchen, Dean looked at his brother. "Do you feel any better?"

"I think so."

"You think so?"

"I'm okay," Sam said with little conviction. He hesitated a moment before continuing. "Dad said he thinks this is a test; something the yellow-eyed demon is doing just to mess with us."

Dean nodded, staring intently into a beer.

"You want me to get the tattoo?"

"You know, it's bad enough when you pass out on me, but wandering off –"

"I don't remember what happened," Sam smiled apologetically.

"I don't want this to keep happening, Sam. It's not like the tattoo has to go in the center of your forehead. Bobby told me it probably doesn't matter where it is."

Sam sighed and nodded. He remembered Dean's words the previous night about not being able to protect him and he thought the least he could do was agree to the only form of protection Bobby had been able to come up with.

"I'll do it."

Dean looked into his eyes and nodded. "Thank you."

oooOOOooo

Neither Bobby nor Dean had the expertise to handle the tattooing. Bobby knew of a man about three hours away who could not only do it, but would use blessed materials for extra protection. Bobby called him and set up a meeting for the next morning. Dean didn't want to let Sam out of his sight and planned to stay awake all night to make sure he didn't leave the house again.

Wanting to lighten the mood, Bobby fired up the barbeque out back and proceeded to grill three thick steaks while the brothers performed some preventative maintenance on the Impala. He also made baked potatoes and even demonstrated his baking skills by putting together an apple pie for dessert.

"You did all this?" Dean asked, amazed, when he and Sam walked into the house later.

"Do you see anyone else here?"

"It smells great."

Bobby knew it had been a long time since the boys had a home cooked meal and he was glad to have the chance to do something for them that didn't involve demons. Sam tried his best, but Bobby noticed he barely ate anything. The older man suspected that Sam wasn't feeling anywhere near as well as he wanted them to believe he did, but he wondered if he should just let Dean handle it. With as close an eye as the older brother was keeping on him, there was no way Dean could miss a mostly uneaten meal.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked as he joined his brother in the living room later. Sam was stretched out on the couch with a dusty book in his lap.

"What?" he tried to sound innocent.

"You hardly ate anything. You're still pale –"

"I'm fine."

"Don't do that," Dean said angrily. "Don't tell me you're fine when I can see that you aren't."

Sam sighed and closed the book, "It's my stomach; it's still bothering me a little."

"That's all?"

"I don't want you to worry."

"You don't want me to worry? Well, it's a little late for that! I don't do anything _but_ worry about you and that won't change until we kill that fucking yellow eyed bastard!" Dean turned away from him and tried to regain his composure.

"Dean, I know that. And that's why I didn't tell you I wasn't feeling well. You have enough on your mind."

"I don't want you hiding things from me," Dean said, not turning around.

"I'm sorry."

Dean hung his head. He was so tired of hearing Sam apologize for things; he was sorry for as many things out of his control as in and it broke Dean's heart.

"Don't apologize," Dean said quietly. "You don't have anything to be sorry for in this whole crazy mess. I just need you to be honest with me and not to keep things from me."

"Dean –"

He wasn't ready to look at his brother yet, but something in Sam's tone made Dean turn around. Sam was reaching for him as the book fell to the floor.

"I heard a crash."

"No," Dean whispered, rushing to his brother's side. "Sam!"

A moment later, Sam's limp form fell into Dean's arms.

_TBC_


	5. Chapter 5

**Apparitions and Ailments**

Chapter 5

oooOOOooo

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

A/N: Sorry about the cliffhanger ending in the last chapter, but it was a logical place to end. I hope this makes up for it a little bit. Thanks again for the feedback; I really do appreciate it and will try to get back to everyone today.

oooOOOooo

_In victory one does not understand the horror of war. It is only in the cold chill of defeat that it is brought home to you _ _Sir Arthur Conan Doyle_

oooOOOooo

This time when Sam's eyes opened, he was in a brightly lit room. It was almost too intense for him to see clearly.

"Dad?" he called.

There was no response. He surveyed his surroundings. The walls were white, as was the floor on which he sat. The room was small and completely square; it held no furniture and he saw no doors or windows.

"Hello?" Sam called as he stood and walked around the small room. "Hello!"

_Hey. What's up?_

Sam whirled around at the voice. He didn't recognize the body he saw in front of him, but he knew the yellow eyes.

"You," Sam nearly hissed.

_Nice to see you again, Sammy. I hear you haven't been feeling well._

"What do you want?"

The demon pointed a finger at him and Sam collapsed to the floor, his side burning. "What are you doing?"

_Proving your brother's theory. I can do whatever I want and neither one of you can stop it._

Sam hugged himself, trying to move into a sitting position. He couldn't ever remember being in this much pain.

_You know what's really cool? I can do this to you when you're in the real world, for lack of a better term. You're mine, Sammy. You and your brother better get used to that. I can take you whenever I want – maybe even put you with your father._

"Where is my father?"

_In a hell of his own making._

Suddenly the pain in his side stopped and Sam finally managed to sit up. His breath was still coming in gasps.

_He wasn't quite honest with you, but then again, your father was often less than honest with you. He knew what your fate would be a long time ago and he didn't tell you, did he? No, of course he didn't. And he didn't tell your big brother, either. Why wouldn't he tell his perfect little soldier, do ya think? _

Sam glared at the demon.

_Isn't that what you think of your brother? That he was John's perfect little soldier? His perfect son? And what about you? Were you just a huge disappointment? You never wanted to be a hunter, did you, Sammy? You wanted to just be a real boy and not your daddy's Pinocchio._

The demon looked at him, his eyes gleeful.

_I'm going to take you, Sammy. I'm going to make you my little Pinocchio because I can. I set this all in motion a long time ago when I killed your mother and, while I'm not exactly on schedule, I'm still in control. I have the Colt and I have your father. You and Dean? You're alone and you don't have a clue of what to do next._

Sam cried out in pain as the demon pointed at him again. This time, his head felt like it was going to explode and the nausea he'd been feeling for days threatened to overwhelm him.

_Your father was a huge pain in my ass. He wasn't quite what I expected; I figured he'd keep being the all-American dad, but he surprised me by becoming a hunter. He was even more skillful than most. And he trained Dean to be just as big a pain in my ass. So while my ultimate goal is to take you and make you what you should have been all along, I'm gonna get a kick out of making Dean suffer._

Sam moaned as he struggled to maintain control, but he knew he was going to lose. He crawled painfully to a corner of the room and threw up, his body retching until there was nothing left. He moved away from the mess, his head throbbing and still feeling sick. He was cold, but hot at the same time, and he lay on the floor, curling into a ball.

_Your mother? Your pretty little girlfriend? They got in my way. I should have killed Dean when I killed your mother. I could have, but I didn't know what he would become and I thought he might be helpful. I could have killed him when I took Jessica, but by then, I was enjoying his pain. And it's even better now than it was then. He's just one big glob of emotion. He's on the edge, you know? I'll have you and he'll have to fight you. That's going to be delicious._

The demon laughed and sent Sam into another wave of pain.

Dean rested a hand on his brother's chest, trying to keep him still. His breathing was shallow and a there was a sheen of sweat on his skin. Bobby had called the tattoo artist as soon as Sam passed out and he was already on his way to the salvage yard.

"Bobby, please," Dean said with tears in his eyes. "Isn't there something we can do?"

"Hold on," the older man said as he rummaged through a desk drawer. Finding a pen, he rushed over to the couch. "Hold his arm out."

Dean did as he was told. "What are you doing?"

"The tattoo with the special materials will be better, but in the meantime, I'm going to draw the symbol on his skin. Hold him still."

"Will this bring him back?"

"I don't know, but it won't hurt."

Sam moaned and then convulsed when Bobby finished drawing the symbol. Dean held his hand and caressed his hair. "Come on, Sammy. Fight that son of a bitch and come back to me."

Bobby didn't like the shaking of Dean's voice or the wild look in his eyes. As for Sam, he knew there was only so much a human body could take and since they weren't completely certain of the demon's intentions, there was no way to gauge how far it would try to push Sam. He knew the symbol would provide protection and would keep the demon from taking Sam, but he didn't know if it would have any affect when he was already with the thing.

Dean cringed when his brother moaned; Bobby put a hand on his shoulder.

"Bobby?" Dean whispered as he squeezed Sam's hand. "What if he's sick? What if this isn't the demon?"

The older hunter had considered that already, but didn't have an answer for Dean.

"Do you want to get a doctor involved?"

"Did someone say doctor?"

Dean and Bobby whirled around at the unexpected voice behind them. It was a woman Bobby didn't recognize.

"What the --?" Dean began.

She looked at him with coal black eyes and he felt himself being torn from his brother and tossed across the room. He grunted as his back hit the wall and he slid down to the floor.

Bobby ran toward the nearest hidden container of holy water, but he wasn't fast enough. She looked toward him and he, too, was thrown against a wall. Stunned, he watched her walk into the kitchen and return a moment later with a large knife; he was sure what she intended to do. Bobby knew any number of exorcisms and could recite them without aid of a book. He began to quietly chant a simple incantation that might not get rid of the demon inside the woman, but would render it helpless. Unless, of course, it had burned the binding symbol into her skin.

Dean shook his head to clear the cobwebs. He saw Bobby's lips moving and guessed what he was doing. Despite the pain he felt, Dean forced himself to stand and move carefully toward the opposite side of the room. The demon looked at him, but continued to Sam's side. Dean recognized the woman as Dr. Sharp, who had admitted Sam to the hospital days before. He remembered the strange look that had passed over her face during one of their conversations about Sam, but it never occurred to him she was part of the demon's plan.

He saw his brother convulse again and caught Bobby nod toward the shelf next to him. The demon wasn't paying attention to Dean at all; she stood over Sam and reached for his arm. Dean saw the glint of the knife blade in her hand just before he saw the container of holy water Bobby had been gesturing toward. Dean was in pain, but he ignored it and reached for the bottle and quietly opened it. Just as the demon-possessed doctor started to cut his brother's arm, Dean rushed forward and sprayed her with the holy water. Burning and in pain, she turned toward Dean with the knife in front of her. Moving more quickly than he thought he could, Dean kicked the knife from her hand and Bobby grabbed it as the blade hit the floor. Once again, the demon shoved Dean into a wall, but not before Bobby doused it with holy water.

Between the two of them, they managed to somehow maneuver the demon to the newly repaired devil's trap on Bobby's living room ceiling. Unable to get out from under it, the demon began to howl.

"Dean!" Bobby yelled as the younger man threw himself at the demon. He pinned her to the floor and called for Bobby to continue with the exorcism as Sam moaned pitifully on the couch.

"It wasn't working," Bobby explained. "Look for the binding symbol; the same one Sam had on his arm when he was possessed."

Dean looked for the symbol as Bobby grabbed another supply of holy water. The demon continued to scream, but frustrated and at the end of his rope, Dean hit the doctor in the face with his closed fist. Her head rolling to the side, the demon was silenced.

"I don't see the symbol!"

Bobby covered the doctor's body with holy water and began to recite a more powerful exorcism. With the body unresponsive, Dean headed to his brother. He had barely moved a foot when he and Bobby were both blown backward as the black smoke, indicative of a demon's departure, escaped from the doctor's mouth a moment later.

Freed of the demon, but still unconscious, the doctor needed to be taken care of. Bobby moved to her side as Dean covered the distance to his brother.

oooOOOooo

The yellow-eyed demon knew what happened at the salvage yard as soon as it was over and angrily kicked at Sam's already battered body. Since they didn't physically occupy the same space, there was no actual contact, but at the same time, he sent Sam into another fit of pain. Sam rolled onto his back crying out.

_I may have to deal with your brother sooner than I planned if he keeps this up. _

Sam barely had a handle on what was going on around him and he instinctively cowered from the sudden wail and rush of wind in the room. He opened his eyes just as his father seemed to appear from nowhere. Sam tried to call for him, but couldn't force any sound from his lips. He found it difficult to follow the action, but Sam watched his father attack the demon. Even if he hadn't been on the brink of unconsciousness, the movement would have been too fast for him to comprehend. Once the entities made contact, they formed a large ball of light that extinguished suddenly.

oooOOOooo

"Dean?"

Sam's voice was low, but Dean heard him clearly and grasped his outstretched hand. "Right here, Sammy."

"Dad –"

"What about Dad?"

"Demon –" Sam's voice was shaking.

"It's okay, Sam. Just relax."

Dean was on his knees next to the couch. He held Sam's hand with one of his own and his other arm was wrapped around his midsection. Dean suspected he had at least some bruised ribs and was desperately trying to ignore the pain. There was no way to position himself comfortably and still be within Sam's line of vision.

"Dad went after the demon – both gone."

"Gone?" Dean whispered.

"Like Mom in Lawrence; with the poltergeist."

"Are you saying Dad's spirit is gone? The _demon _is gone?"

"I don't know," Sam said, looking into his brother's eyes.

Dean blinked away tears.

"You're hurt," Sam breathed.

"I'm fine," Dean insisted. "What about you?"

Sam nodded, his eyes falling shut.

A moment later, Dean felt a hand on his shoulder and he assumed it was Bobby.

"Boys."

Dean jerked around at the sound of his father's voice. He leaned back against the couch and didn't see as his brother's eyes fly open.

"Dad," Dean breathed.

"I can't stay long," John said. "I'm kind of borrowed time as it is. I needed to make sure you two were okay."

"How are you here?" Dean asked.

John knelt down, a hand on each of his sons. "I don't have time to explain that, Dean. You have to know that this isn't over yet, but you have time to regroup. The demon won't be coming after you for a while."

"Dad," Sam put a trembling hand on his father's. "I saw –"

"I know, Sammy, but don't worry, I'm okay."

"Are you really?" Dean asked.

John smiled at him. "Yeah. And I'll be better now. But you two have to be diligent and take care of each other. The demon isn't going to give up. Especially not now."

The brothers watched as John took the Colt, the only weapon that could kill the demon, from the waist band of his jeans. He handed it to Dean.

"How –" Dean looked him wide-eyed.

John only smiled at him. "Take care of it. Remember, there's only one bullet left."

"John."

He turned at the sound of his friend's voice. "Hey, Bobby. You gonna fill me with buckshot?"

The hunter smiled. "Not this time."

John looked back to Sam and Dean. He didn't see two men in their twenties in front of him, he saw his children; the children that he and Mary wanted so badly and were so happy to have. He didn't want to leave them, but he knew he had taken a chance to come to them now. "I have to go, boys. Remember what I said and pay attention to the things around you. Don't lose your focus and, above all, take care of yourselves."

"Don't go," Dean said, his voice cracking.

"I have to, son." he cupped Dean's face. "I'm proud of you, you know that? And I'm sorry I left you with this –"

"Why did you do it, Dad? Why did you make a deal –"

"So you could live, Dean. Your whole life is ahead of you and I want you to live it. Don't give everything up for the hunt like I did." John's thumb wiped at a tear on Dean's face. "I love you, son."

"I love you, too, Dad. I miss you."

"I'm always with you," John looked at Sam. "And you. Sammy, we fight like cats and dogs, but you're my son and I love you. Don't you _ever_ forget that."

Sam smiled and nodded, tears springing into his eyes.

John leaned forward and gently kissed the forehead of each of his sons. Despite Dean's strong grip on his sleeve, John pulled away and stood up. He called Bobby's name, but kept eye contact with Sam and Dean.

"Yeah, John?" Bobby's voice was filled with emotion.

John turned around. "Thank you for helping my boys."

Bobby only nodded.

John took one more look at his sons and, with tears in his eyes, headed toward the door. Dean scrambled to his feet, ignoring the burning of his ribs, but John disappeared before he could reach him.

oooOOOooo

In physical pain and devastated by losing his father all over again, Dean collapsed to the floor. Bobby ran to his side, telling Sam to stay on the couch. Sam felt dizzy and his body ached like he had endured an actual beating, but he couldn't be separated from his brother right now, not even by a few feet. He sat on the floor with Dean and cradled his head on his lap, looking at Bobby pleadingly.

"He's gonna be okay, Sam" Bobby assessed Dean's injuries with a quick examination. "Stay with him."

"Where are you going?"

"To get some supplies from the bathroom."

"Dean," Sam held fast to his brother. "Come on, man."

"Dad –"

"It's Sam, Dean. Dad isn't here. Open your eyes for me."

Dean's eyes fluttered open; he looked at his brother and tried to sit up.

"Hold on; just stay where you are." Sam held him down gently.

"Are you hurt?" Dean asked.

Sam smiled to himself. True to form, Dean was more worried about him than he was about himself. "I'm all right. Not great, but all right."

"Was Dad really here?"

"Yeah, he was." Sam's voice cracked as he spoke. "He couldn't stay, but Dean, I'm here. I'm here, okay?"

Dean tried to blink away tears, but there were too many of them. He closed his eyes and let himself feel comfortable in his brother's arms.

When Bobby came back to the living room, Sam watched as he treated Dean's injuries, including taping his ribs. He was a little worried that Dean didn't protest any of it, but was glad his injuries were being taken care of. They moved Dean to the bedroom where Bobby turned his attention to Sam. Once both of the brothers were more comfortable, Sam saw Bobby settle in a corner of the room.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah, Sam?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah, but I think I'll just sit here a bit; until you two are sleeping."

Sam didn't think he'd be able to fall asleep, but as he watched his brother, his eyes closed.

_TBC_


	6. Chapter 6

**Apparitions and Ailments**

Chapter 6

oooOOOooo

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

A/N: Once again, we've come to the end of a journey and I want to thank everyone who has read this far. I appreciate all the feedback; it means more to me than you know. Sure, I could write stories for my own enjoyment, but it's very fulfilling to know that other people enjoy them as well. Until we meet again….

oooOOOooo

_Either I will find a way, or I will make one - Philip Sidney_

oooOOOooo

Sam woke up first, a nightmare on the edge of his memory. He looked toward his brother's bed and saw Dean sleeping, appearing to be peaceful and the chair Bobby had occupied earlier was empty. A little unsteady, Sam made his way out of the bedroom and found Bobby in the kitchen. He was sitting at the table with someone Sam didn't recognize.

"Sam, you're awake. Sort of. You okay?"

Sam nodded.

"Sit down, I'll get you some coffee. This is Rob Barrens, the person I called about the tattoo."

Sam shook the man's hand. It felt like a week had passed since he'd agreed to the tattoo. Sam muttered a thanks to Bobby as he put a cup of coffee on the table in front of him.

"Is Dean still asleep?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "I don't want to leave him for too long. He shouldn't wake up alone."

"Sam, Rob needs to get back home. How about that tattoo?"

The youngest Winchester looked uncertain for a moment, but then he nodded. "Let's do it."

The design was simple and didn't take long to apply. Rob took the necessary hygienic and supernatural precautions and the job was done very quickly. As Bobby walked the artist out, Sam returned to his brother.

Dean was still asleep in the same position as when Sam left, but he was muttering softly and there was a light sheen of sweat on his face. Sam got a bowl of cold water and a cloth from the kitchen and was patting Dean's face gently with the cloth when Bobby joined him.

"What is that?" Sam whispered as he watched Bobby prepare a syringe.

"An antibiotic; I hope that fever doesn't mean there's an infection already."

"I don't like that he's still asleep."

"I gave him something to help him sleep," Bobby explained. "He's barely gotten any rest in the last few days and, well, I figured with what happened earlier…."

Sam nodded.

Once Bobby had delivered the drug, he disposed of the needle and looked at Sam. "Speaking of what happened earlier; what's going on with you?"

Sam looked at him and smiled through the sudden tears. "Dad was here, Bobby."

"Yeah, he was. What about before that?"

Sam shrugged.

"Where did you go when you lost consciousness?"

Sam looked uneasy and stared at his brother.

"Did you go to the yellow-eyed demon?" Bobby pressed.

The young man nodded.

"Did it tell you anything?"

Sam nodded again and took the next few minutes to tell Bobby what he remembered.

"So your daddy was right. The demon is just messing with you and Dean."

"It just all seems so pointless."

"Not to the demon. We still don't know its real plan, but it makes sense it would want to wear you down. In part to amuse itself, but you and Dean off-balance are easier to handle."

Sam touched his brother's hair; a tender gesture Dean would never endure if he were awake. He didn't stir. "I think the demon wants to get rid of him."

"Probably so."

Sam looked at Bobby sharply. "The Colt! Dad gave us the Colt! Where is it?"

Bobby held up a hand. "Don't worry; it's in the safe."

Sam took a deep breath. "Thank you, Bobby. For everything."

Bobby smiled at him warmly. "I'll leave you with your brother."

Once Bobby was gone, Sam sat on the edge of Dean's bed and laid a hand on his arm. Dean moaned, but a few soft words from Sam calmed him.

When Dean woke up later, he was confused, but recognized the bedroom and was comforted by seeing Sam lying in the next bed. His ribs protested as he sat up and he remembered the struggle with the demon-possessed doctor. He rested on the side of the bed before standing up and when he did, the room started to spin. Trying to steady himself, Dean instead fell onto Sam's bed causing his brother to awaken immediately.

"Dean?" Sam asked anxiously.

"I'm sorry," Dean struggled into a more comfortable position. "You okay?"

"Am I okay? Dean, man –"

Dean held up a hand. "My ribs hurt like hell and my head hurts, but I'll be fine. What about you?"

Sam sat up. "I'm okay. You still have a fever?" Dean, uncharacteristically compliant, let Sam feel his forehead.

"How long have we been out? Where's Bobby?" Dean asked a moment later.

"You've been asleep for about three hours. Bobby is taking Dr. Sharp to the bus station."

"You know she was here?"

Sam nodded. "I was up before and Bobby told me what happened when I passed out."

"What's your side of the story?"

Sam told Dean the same thing he'd told Bobby earlier.

They sat quietly, shoulders touching, for several minutes.

"Dad was here," Dean whispered.

"Yeah. And he left us the Colt."

"Where is it?" Dean asked.

"Bobby put it in the safe."

"What did he tell Dr. Sharp?"

"He didn't have to tell her anything. He used some kind of memory mojo on her."

"He what?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't know, man. I didn't ask for details."

"Hey, Dean?" Sam asked after several minutes of a comfortable silence.

"Yeah?" he asked, trying to maneuver into a more comfortable position.

"What Dad said, about why he made the deal with the demon, are you –"

"I'm okay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I mean, I still think there had to be another way, but…" he shrugged. "I'm hungry."

Sam realized he was, too, and he couldn't remember the last real meal he ate. He hadn't felt well for a while, but now it occurred to him that the nausea and headache were gone. He stood, holding out a hand for Dean. As he did, the sleeve of his shirt rode up, revealing part of the tattoo. Dean pulled the sleeve up further.

"You did it."

Sam nodded, "Yeah."

"Good."

"We'll see."

oooOOOooo

Normally restless and unwilling to stay anywhere for very long, Dean was quite content at Bobby's until his ribs were healed, reluctant to leave even then. It wasn't often that he felt safe, or even the need to feel safe, but being at Bobby's provided him with a tranquility he hadn't even realized he craved.

He missed his father and he knew that Sam did, too. They talked about it and, while they were grateful for the extra moments with him, neither thought it had been enough.

Even weeks after what happened, it was still hard for Dean to leave Sam alone because of the constant fear that the yellow-eyed demon would surface from where ever John had sent it and come for Sam again. Dean hoped the tattoo would be enough to keep Sam safe; he knew all too well now that he couldn't do it himself. Ever since the shtriga tried to take Sam when they were children, Dean feared losing his brother. If their father hadn't barreled through the door when he did, Sam would have been lost forever.

Yes, Dean was afraid of being alone, but it was more than that. He could be alone if it meant Sam was safe and happy somewhere else, but if his being alone meant that Sam was dead or worse, that was something Dean could not accept.

As for Sam, he didn't like Dean's constant hovering, but he understood that was how it had to be for now. He accepted it for how it was intended, but knew it couldn't last forever or it would drive both of them crazy. But for now, if it was what Dean needed to do, Sam could live with it. And in truth, Dean's concern made him feel safe.

Despite how he grew up, the lack of a stable home and the constant supernatural threats, Sam realized recently that he always felt safe and that was due to Dean. Even though only four years separated them, his brother always seemed so much older and wiser, able to handle anything that came his way. Sam recognized some of that as a false bravado Dean wore for his benefit, but that wasn't all it was.

Sam knew the demon would come for him again. He knew that, somehow, the demon intended for him to become evil. Sometimes he was afraid of that potential fate; afraid of what he might do and of who he might hurt. He'd made Dean promise to kill him if it came to that and, even though Dean refused when he was possessed, Sam didn't doubt his brother would do whatever necessary to protect him and keep him safe. He knew Dean would kill him if he had to. But maybe, with the Colt that they'd left in the safety of Bobby's house, Dean would never be pushed that far.

As Dean sat in the driver's seat, content to listen to music playing on the radio, Sam glanced at him. He'd run from this life before, but it was where Sam needed to be; at least for now. And when it was over, however it turned out, he would always know he was lucky enough to have at least one person who loved him and put him first.

Sam stretched out as much as he could in the passenger seat and smiled to himself. Sometimes life really wasn't so bad.

_Fin_


End file.
